


OjiFans

by normal_author



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Amateur Pornography, Anal Fisting, Dubious Consent, Huge Dildoes, Incredibly Stupid Fanfiction, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, OnlyFans, Slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/normal_author/pseuds/normal_author
Summary: After deciding to clean up his life once and for all, the former leader of Team Skull gets a summer job.Unfortunately for him, it involves shoving his hand up Nanu's asshole like a Muppeteer.
Relationships: Guzma/Kuchinashi | Nanu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	OjiFans

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning** : Guzma doesn't get to use his penis even once in this fic.

Ever since the end of the Ultra Beast incidents and the disbanding of Team Skull, Guzma had too much time on his hands and not enough to do with it or anyone to spend it with. Lusamine was–well, let’s just say he didn’t really want to know when she’d get back from Kanto. Plumeria was busy herding around the scattered remnants of their old gang, whipping them into shape and helping out the ones who had nowhere to go. She’d always been better with that kind of thing than him. These days, his time was pretty evenly split between sleeping, “training with” (getting his ass kicked by) Hala, and playing single-player Mario Kart in his bedroom, surrounded by third-place trophies on dusty shelves. It was getting to be too much. He needed to get a real job.

“Hey, ol’ geezer,” Guzma called out from across the Hau’oli Pokémon Center at Hala, who was getting his complimentary fistfuls of Pokébeans from the overly-enthusiastic barista at the café. “It’s ya boy. What’s up?”

“Ho! Why if it isn’t my favorite student!” Hala chuckled at his own little joke, as Guzma was currently his _only_ protegé. A few cafégoers stopped drinking their coffees and Pinap juice smoothies to stare at the still-hated Team Skull ex-boss standing in their midst, making casual conversation with the Kahuna, then went back to transparently pretending that they weren’t eavesdropping. The barista, hell-bent on earning some kind of service award for being the lucky guy to sell a cup of Tapu Cocoa to Hala himself, kept shoveling increasingly rare beans onto the counter, even as they rolled off the surface onto the ground and were quickly devoured, somehow, by Hala’s Poliwhirl.

“Ya know, I really hate that they still do that every time I walk into a building,” Guzma grumbled as he walked to stand closer to Hala, side-eyeing one particular Swimmer, who started in her seat at his words and tried to appear as if she had been trying to solve a newspaper crossword in front of her the whole time. Never mind that the page was upside down. “I ain’t even done anything in months. Actually, speaking of that,” he paused to try and school his tone to something a little less casual, something he hadn’t done since he’d broken down and groveled for Hala to teach him how to become a stronger Trainer, “D’ya… Do you think you could help me find a job? A real job?”

Hala stood silent in contemplation, checking off and crossing out lists of mental lists for a few seconds, before sighing deeply. “…Hmph, to be frank, I can’t think of anyone who would hire you, given your reputation.”

Guzma’s face fell. Oh, by the Tapus, was he going to have to spend the rest of his life eating corn puffs in his room and playing video games until everyone forgot who he was? “Are ya sure? What about working with you? Do you need anyone helpin’ you out with any of your Kahuna business?” He internally grimaced at the thought; he already spent most of his waking time with Hala, but anything was better than locking himself inside and drowning out the sound of shouting through his bedroom door with idle pursuits until he passed out from boredom or exhaustion.

“I don’t have anything I need your help with right now, boy,” Hala responded, to Guzma’s mixed relief and disappointment. “Hm, I guess I could try to put in a good word for you with the other kahunas…” With that, Guzma perked up–although Hapu was a bit young for him, Olivia… Olivia had a tight fuckin’ body, legs for days, and she was single. Maybe if she needed an assistant at her rock shop or whatever, he could get a rapport going, slide into her DMs, slide into her wet-ass puss–As Guzma’s mental fantasies grew ever-wilder, Hala looked up from his phone and interrupted Guzma’s train of thought, “Oh ho, Nanu said he needed help with a project. And with his help, you might even repair your reputation a little bit on Ula’ula! Now then, I’ll just send you off to see what he needs.”

Wait.

Nanu? That fucking boring old fart of a cop? Aw _hell_ no.

Guzma could feel his half-chub wilting away in his sweatpants as Hala led him to the ferry terminal. Well, there went all his chances of getting laid for the foreseeable future. He was probably going to spend all his free time cat-sitting Meowths and getting lectured on the lay of the law. How boring.

* * *

Guzma fruitlessly rattled the door handle, before electing to pound on the door again. He had half a mind to go around the back and find a window to climb into, because he _knew_ from the nearly incomprehensible message he’d received on his shitty Nokia that Officer Nanu was definitely in. Or at least he was pretty sure that was what the text said. Just as he was about to turn around and find a nice brick to break the glass with, his phone buzzed in his hand:

> sprae ke’ys undenenath thedoormat cum in

He squinted at the message for a few seconds, trying to decipher Nanu’s shitty typing. It looked like he’d been typing with his left hand, drunk, eyes closed. How could one person be so bad at technology and yet be the most respected person on the island? Sometimes the whims of Tapu Bulu didn’t seem to make any sense, just like how it was supposed to be Tapu Bulu’s fault that it was always raining on Po Town. “Spare key’s… underneath… the doormat… come in?” Guzma mouthed to himself, before lifting up the doormat. “How come he can’t even be assed enough to unlock the door?” Or turn on autocorrect, for that matter. Sure enough, the spare key was lying underneath, attached to a cute little cat paw-shaped keychain. It was at once both something that he would never imagine Nanu owning and something that was perfectly him. He wondered if Nanu had bought it himself, or if it was a gift from somebody else. “Tch. Probably bought it himself,” Guzma muttered to nobody in particular, “It’s not like he’s got anyone who cares about him enough to get him something like that.”

The key fit perfectly in the lock, which unlocked with a quiet _click_. Guzma stepped over the threshold quickly, fiddling with his golden wristwatch slightly nervously. All of a sudden, he’d been struck with a terrible sense of premonition, as if he was about to encounter some kind of life-changing experience. He shook his head in derision and glanced up to survey the large room. Freezing in place and wrenching his eyes shut immediately, immediately wished that he hadn’t.

“Well, boy? If you’ve got some preparation you need to do, I’ll wait here for you.”

Preparation? Guzma wasn’t sure if he would ever be mentally prepared for the image confronting his eyeballs. The Kahuna of Ula’Ula island, the police officer who had dragged him into the drunk tank to interrupt a few meth-filled escapades, the older man that Guzma would never admit he’d wished had been his real father on more than a few late nights of listening to his father swing the old golf club at the objects in his house, lay spread-eagle before him on a tarp, completely naked, a shitty webcam mounted on a makeshift tripod pointed directly at the two foot long, white and orange marbled mass of silicone obscuring his crotch. Guzma was terrified to look around what he was slowly realizing was in fact some kind of bizarre dildo, but his curiosity got the better of him. Oh, wonderful. He could now add “tiny dick” to the list of facts that he now knew about Nanu, along with “microwave dinner connoisseur” and “habitual menthol smoker”. Oh, how he wished he didn’t know these things. It was better to pretend that Nanu was a two-dimensional character, just the guy who played the role of “cop who blasts him with a hose when he gets too high and pisses all over a wall”. Anything was better than this.

He had more than half a mind to just turn on his heel and walk away to drown himself under the peaceful blue waves, but he’d already made a promise to himself that he would try his best to follow through with his obligations. He’d already failed Hala once with the island trials years ago in his adolescence, then continued to fail him over and over again in his adulthood with his reckless antics. He couldn’t keep disappointing him for the rest of his life, and running away from Nanu’s house with his tail between his legs would make him look like a slacker, no matter how many excuses he could throw to justify his cowardice. The tiny amount of trust that he’d regained over the short amount of time that he’d spent as Hala’s protégé would be lost in an instant if he didn’t just grit his teeth and do whatever amount of dirty work he needed to do. And anyway, the next ferry back to Melemele Island wasn’t for another few hours. Loathe as he was to admit it, he really didn’t have anything else to do.

Guzma pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and inhaled slowly. Through gritted teeth, he managed to spit out, “It’s… fine. What do you need ya boy to do for you?” though he already dreaded the response. Maybe Nanu just needed him to herd the cats outside so they wouldn’t interrupt his jerk session. He scanned the room, skipping over Nanu’s soft, shitty body as quickly as he could, to find the living room devoid of Meowths. Oh no. 

“Come join me. I won’t bite.” Nanu made that stupid smirk that Guzma always hated, the one that made him feel like an idiot every time he saw it, usually since it was in response to Guzma making himself look like a fool. “Oh, and make sure to turn the camera on.” 

As if from far away, or maybe underwater, Guzma could hear Nanu continue, “Don’t worry, I’m a grower,” as he gestured towards his dong.

Guzma’s legs carried him forward mechanically, his hands shaking as he hit the record button before squatting nervously next to Nanu’s naked form. A sudden, horrifying thought struck him as he stared back into the impassive gaze of the camera. “This is… You’re not sharing this with anyone else, right?”

“Of course not,” Nanu lied, “now introduce yourself for the camera.”

“Uh,” Guzma faltered, before continuing. “My name’s G-Guzma… and I’m–I used to be the leader of…” He cleared his throat after trailing off awkwardly. Should he strike a pose? What the hell kind of video was this anyway? “What exactly d’ya want me to say again?”

Nanu picked up the narration, propping up his head with one of his hands. “Hello friends. I’m going to review a sex toy from the perspective of a gay bottom. Dildoes have a wide ranging audience that even includes people who don’t use them for penetration, so my remarks today may cover a limited scope for some of the viewers at home interested in learning about this product. I will attempt to address as many concerns as possible, but this video is primarily for the gays.” He recited this intro as if it was something he had practiced many, many times. 

Guzma peeked over and noticed that Nanu’s head was out of frame. “Uh, should I move the camera up? Your face ain’t visible.”

“No.” With that, Nanu continued, “Today, Guzma here is helping me review the ‘Summer Solstice’ that you see here. Now, the Summer Solstice here was made by Bad Dragonite, modeled after Alola’s own emissary of the sun, and was generously gifted to me by one of my followers, QueenCroagunk100…” He placed a large bottle of something labeled “Cosmoglide Cumlube” into Guzma’s now-trembling hands, and interrupted his narration for the camera with a small aside: “Hey, Guzma, you’ll be needing this.”

As Nanu kept describing the various features of the humongous feline dildo before him, occasionally leaning forward and gently caressing it with a loving expression on his face, Guzma stared blankly at the bottle in his hand, only picking up a few words here and there. Uncapped, the contents of the bottle of Cosmoglide poured without restraint into his hands and onto the tarp. “You’ll need more than that.” Guzma snapped out of his dissociative daze and started to spread the cold liquid onto his fingers, setting the bottle down and rubbing his slippery palms together. So this was what his life had come to. Maybe he was already dead from one of those awful jellyfish monsters up in Ultra Space, and the past few months had just been a dying dream. That would be nice.

“What should I do now?” Guzma asked, afraid to hear the answer. Some of the lube he’d put on his hands had dripped onto his sweatpants and soaked through the cloth, leaving a few uncomfortably sticky spots on his legs. He had to remind himself again that if he left now, he’d look like a slacker to Hala. This was probably his last chance to really redeem himself in the old Kahuna’s eyes. Sure, this was possibly one of the worst jobs he’d had in his life, not counting helping Lusamine rip portals into eldritch dimensions, inadvertently releasing the Pandora’s box of monstrosities within, but it wasn’t like anyone else was jumping at the bit to hire him. “Ya boy never backs down from a challenge…” he whispered quietly to himself, hoping that neither Nanu nor the webcam microphone would pick up his mumbling. He was almost certain at this point that he wasn’t taking part in a home video for Nanu’s eyes only, but it didn’t even matter anymore. His face was already in the video; there was no going back now. All he could do was pray that when it was all over, Nanu would have the common decency to at least blur out his facial features. Something told him that wouldn’t happen, though.

“Take off your jacket and help prep me for the product demonstration.” Nanu had at this point hooked his arms under his hairy legs to spread them as far as his aging body could easily handle, ready for Guzma to begin.

Still trying to stay out of the frame of the video to mitigate the damage to his already-terrible reputation, Guzma scooted forward on his heels and shrugged off his jacket, shuddering slightly and getting more lube all over the sleeve. Just one more thing he’d have to wash later, along with probably his whole body. He wasn’t looking forward to the shower he knew he’d have to take after exploring the old man’s anal cavity. “Like this?” he asked, and gently pressed one lube-covered digit against Nanu’s dry, puckered hole. “You’re one messed up dude,” he muttered as his finger slid in without resistance, hoping that his voice was soft enough to avoid being picked up by the camcorder’s microphone. It was surprisingly nice and warm inside Nanu’s ass, and he noticed that the relaxing drone of Nanu’s narration had stopped, his body tensing briefly around Guzma’s probing finger for a second; Nanu’s hands clenched tightly for a moment, fingernails digging into the soft, jelly-like silicone of the Bad Dragonite dildo, before he let out the breath he’d been holding with a quiet exhale.

“Tch… You’re going to need a lot more than just one finger before I’m ready for this,” Nanu gestured at the magnum dong with his free hand, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead to his chin. He grimaced slightly as Guzma, in turn, clumsily jabbed another finger into his black hole eclipse. “You don’t do this much, do you?”

Guzma fell for the taunt and angrily retorted, “I-I’m getting to it!” and pressed forward, his wrist getting teabagged by Nanu’s pendulous nutsack as the palm of his left hand pressed against the root of his chode. “I’ve, uh, I’ve fucked a lot of dudes before, I know how this works,” he stammered, lying through his teeth. “And I was definitely the one doing the fucking,” he continued, digging his hole of lies deeper as he waggled his index finger against the smooth folds of Nanu’s colon, “not that I like having sex with men or anything.” He’d had one or two such encounters before in which he’d indulged a grunt struck with a bad case of hero-worship and let him into his bed for a good pounding. It only made sense that most of his grunts wanted to fuck him, after all, who wouldn’t want a piece of him? His boasts of strength and stamina didn’t just stop at the streets, when all was said and done. 

It was more pleasant for Guzma to reminisce on his few previous encounters with strapping young grunts than to face the reality of his current predicament, but unfortunately the physical truth of his hand’s presence inside Nanu quickly brought him back to the real world. Finding himself knuckle-deep in the older man’s asshole made him feel like a Deerling caught in the headlights of life. His eyes were horribly drawn to the grotesque sight of his finger rhythmically pumping in and out, squishing and stretching Nanu’s worn-out sphincter.

Without thinking about it, Guzma’s middle finger slipped inside Nanu’s asshole. The suction was incredible; there was no way for him to resist it. It was like a car crash happening in slow motion, except the cars were his own digits sliding past each other into Nanu’s wet and sloppy hole.

Guzma remembered: once when he’d been a little boy, back when his parents still liked each other and his father hadn’t started spending all his time “golfing with his buddies” at the strip clubs in Hau’oli City, he’d gotten his hand caught in a Trapinch nest. He’d cried for what felt like hours before his mom and dad found him and tugged him loose. Nanu’s asshole felt like that. A vise clamped shut around his fingers, sucking them in, inescapable. Was this the true meaning of the “Black hole” from Nanu’s signature Z-move?

Come to think of it, it was kind of weird how tight Nanu’s ass was once Guzma got his thumb in, despite how busted and worn out Nanu’s asshole looked. Guzma hadn’t taken the rumors too seriously, but there had always been whispers ever since he became the kahuna that Kahuna Nanu was the easiest ride on the island. There was graffiti saying stuff like “Kahuna Nanu deepthroats fat cocks every day” splattered here and there across the Po Town walls. Guzma had always assumed it was just banter and disrespect for the local authority, but maybe there was some truth to it.

“That’s it, right there,” Nanu groaned as Guzma’s hand slipped in to the wrist. Was it just his imagination, or did Nanu’s normally gruff voice sound surprisingly cute when someone was wrist-deep in him? Guzma shook his head as if to clear his mind. There was no way this fucked up old geezer was cute in any way, shape, or form. “Just a little more…”

“I’m all outta fingers, dude,” Guzma snapped as he drizzled more lube onto his wrist. Yeah, there was no way Nanu could be cute. He just got confused for a moment, that’s all. Or maybe somehow Nanu was sucking the sanity right out of Guzma’s brain with his asshole.

Nanu reached up to adjust the camera. “All right, time to put it in me then.”

Whoaaaa, Guzma ain’t signed up for that. “My dick?” This was taking it a little bit too far. Yeah, it was one thing to shove his hand up Nanu’s sloppy asshole, but putting his penis inside? No way. No fucking way.

“No you fucking retard, the dildo we’re reviewing.” Nanu reached over and grabbed said dildo in one hand. “This one?” he asked rhetorically. “Remember?”

That was harsh, Guzma thought to himself. There really wasn’t any need to call him a retard. It was a weird-ass situation, there was no way he’d know what the hell to expect.

“Okay, okay,” Guzma replied, leaning over to take the dildo from Nanu. It was huge, way bigger than any man’s penis Guzma had ever seen in his life. Not that he’d seen a lot of penises before. Because he wasn’t gay, and only had sex with women. All those times he’d sucked off a Team Skull grunt or two or three didn’t count. But if they did, then the dildo would definitely be way bigger than any of theirs.

“Don’t block the camera,” Nanu said deadpan, and swatted Guzma’s hand away before setting the dildo down on the floor next to Guzma’s thigh. Wow, that thing was almost as big as Guzma’s thigh.

Wait. Camera? What camera?

It was at this moment that Guzma remembered everything he’d done so far had been on film. And his left hand was still firmly lodged in Nanu’s hole. He turned to stare at Nanu’s computer screen, and noticed that tips and comments were racking up on the livestream.

> OMG is that really Guzma??? The big bad boss who beats em down and beats em off and never lets up?

> 👀👀👀👀👀👀

> nah its a paid actor just like how this guy likes to cosplay as kahuna nanu

> I heard kahuna nanu had an 8 pack &that kahuna nanu was shredded 😍

Guzma shuddered. Somebody named “Hau’oli Ho” tipped 500 Poké in response.

After firmly grabbing said left arm in his free hand and a little bit of yanking, Guzma managed to extract it gently enough not to hurt Nanu. One of the grunts once told him a nasty story about a chick she knew who fucked a Mightyena once and got its dick stuck inside her. When she tried to yank it out too fast, her whole pussy fell out. If Guzma did that and sent Kahuna Nanu to the emergency room in an asshole-related accident, getting another job would be the last of his worries. 

Guzma was terrified to look at his hand. After being jammed so far up Nanu’s ass he’d been worried it would never come out, who knew what kind of shit was on it? Probably literal shit. But when he opened his eyes and braved a peek over, his left hand looked surprisingly normal. Wet and slippery, but normal. There was nothing on it but lube; even the tattoo he drew on his forearm every day had smudged and blurred off a little.

“I go on a liquid diet for a week before filming,” Nanu explained as he lined the dildo up with his asshole. “Makes it easier to clean up later. Viewers aren’t paying for a shitstorm.” He smiled at the camera and winked, slowly and sleazily.

Well, Guzma wasn’t about to ask, but thanks for the explanation!

“Acerola comes over and helps prepare it for me,” Nanu continued, unsolicited. 

Oh, that was all kinds of wrong! Springing all this on Guzma was one thing, because honestly when he thought about all the terror he’d enacted on the people of Alola he felt like he kind of deserved this whacko nightmare of a gig, but Acerola was a nice girl. She always stood up for the little kids Guzma would send his grunts to mug outside the Aether House orphanage. “Prepare your ass? That’s pretty fucked up of you, dude.”

“What? No, she prepares the liquid diet.” And with that, Nanu beckoned Guzma to come over with a wave of his hand.

Half formed thoughts swirled through Guzma’s head:

_Ah, Guzma, what is wrong with you?! Scratch that, what’s the deal with Nanu?_

But he wasn’t the kind of guy who ever backed down from a challenge. Guzma swallowed the lump in his throat and walked forward to where Nanu was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack to this fic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IR2vxfuMfvo). I'd like to thank all my friends online for believing in me.


End file.
